Spired
by GreatOverseer
Summary: A mysterious occurrence leaves NoobWeiser3 in the custody of the MBI (Minecraftian Bureau of Investigation). He has to assist in the investigation into the event which left him with the MBI. One word follows him as he journeys to different biomes, battles mobs, and escapes death: SPIRED.
1. Chapter 0: The Mining Accident

**"Now all my teachers are dead except silence." **  
**~W.S. Merwin**

ooo

Iron is my job, my life's calling, and my only means of survival. Why? Because I'm a poor Crafter in a big world. Welcome to my life.

I work for HPhos mining corporation, a large mining enterprise that is responsible for all the iron coming out of the ground of this continent, called Derpton.

Paid for every ton of iron I shovel from the big, black hole that is the mineshaft, I wait to hear my supervisor say "That'll do, boy." Those are the moments I live for. Only because, when you get down to it, there really isn't much I can live for. Sure, people on the other side of the continent get way more gold bars than I do monthly. But even if that weren't true, I'd still be in the lowest-paying job on the cube.

I have big dreams that mainly involve finding the biggest iron deposit in the land. But I have to work up to that dream, dig a little deeper every day, do some really tedious shit, all so I can get down at least ten meters per day. Before the monsters come out. Mines are dangerous places at night. Because of their dark, things spawn inside, things I've only heard about. Some say there are zombies in there that are so strong they can kill people in one shot, but only in the deeper levels.

Being killed, needless to say, would sort of spoil these dreams.

So I'm trying to achieve my goal while sticking to the time constraints and the tools' confounded fragility. Even your fist was stronger than a pickaxe.

While trying to achieve it one day, one fateful day, I found myself, without any warning...

Well, let me explain first. It's kind of useless to the general flow of a story if I don't explain what went wrong and why. You see, I had somewhat exceeded my expectations and discovered what looked to be a large, hollow area underground that looked like the inside of a sphere. On the walls were coal, iron, and gold. The floor was also speckled with emeralds, since our mine was in a mountainous zone. I called up to the supervisor that I'd found the motherlode, and he came down to investigate. I swear that his mouth opened wide enough to swallow a pig.

"Holy shit," he breathed in amazement.

We set about mining, the crew, my supervisor, and I. Supervisor used TNT to blow out new hollows that we could stand in and collect minerals and coal from. The dust became thick, almost a solid substance, a wall of stagnant black and gray in front, to the sides, and behind. When Supervisor finally placed a torch on the wall, and lit it, we found that the surface was a tiny dot of bright light above. Some of the other miners began to get scared.

"We can't just stop here!," exclaimed Supervisor. "There's gold, iron... come on, guys! Pull together!"

"You heard the man," I said. "I think we should act on what he's sayin'. We just might, after all, get a little better pay for this."

Digging a tunnel, in dead silence except for the noises our picks made on stone, and the occasional rattle as a few pieces of coal fell out of a smashed block, was eerie. The dust obscured my vision and muffled sound. We had to breathe sparingly, taking in only the breaths we deemed fit for consumption. At least, the ones that Supervisor, with his primitive gas monitor, deemed fit for consumption. And every once in a while, we'd see, to our right and left, entrances to other, more dark tunnels uprooted by our activity.

All of a sudden, Supervisor's torch fell on a pile of tiny pebbles.

"Gravel," he exclaimed. "That's a bad sign. C'mon, let's move faster."

Now with the gravel to think about, the rush to mine became, in a word, terrifying. Supervisor used TNT to mine less frequently, and away from gravel at all costs.

As we entered a room, we had a feeling we'd come to a dead end, and that if we mined just one little bit more down we'd hit bedrock. Down here as opposed to at the mineshaft, there was redstone, giving the air a bloody color. The TNT was stowed safely away.

"Don't drag your pickaxes on the floor," Supervisor warned. "There's redstone dust there, too."

Carefully we filed into the room. For it was a room, we realized. It was hollowed out, and was rectangular. Pistons lined the walls, hidden in alchoves and dips in the stone.

I wondered what the pistons were for.

Then I didn't need to wonder, because at that moment the pistons thrust upward. The ground shook as the pistons retracted, bringing down a ring of blocks. The ceiling gave way and fell down. On closer inspection I realized it was all gravel, held by some strange force, now released. The gravel fell, two thick layers of it. I tried moving my arms, but to no avail.

An explosion sounded overhead. The gravel layer compressing my head and shoulders was blasted apart. I saw a massive, bright, glowing circular hole in the darkness. Fire flew downwards. Supervisor was screaming, and already a few miners were dead. Lava churned within the circle. The mysterious object then dimmed for a moment. And subsequently turned the world white. A roar like death was all I could hear. When the light dimmed, I noticed a hole in the ceiling, stretching to the surface, a hole that had to be at least a hundred meters in diameter. Against the sky was a small, cylindrical shape, rapidly getting more tiny and out of reach until it vanished through a blocky cloud.

I ran to where Supervisor lay in a pool of pixelated blood. As I looked into his closed eyes and checked his pulse, the man's mouth opened. And he said one word.

"SPIRED."

He then went limp and his pulse stopped. I let him drop from where I'd been propping him up.

There was no explanation for this, this... thing that had erupted from the pit. Nothing except some still-flaming piles of gravel, a dead man and the word "SPIRED".

I huddled into myself and waited for the rescue party to come.


	2. Chapter 1: Situation Room

**"A government that is big enough to give you all you want is big enough to take it all away." **  
**-Barry Goldwater**

ooo

"Yes, quite a large piece of news, Major."

"All over the cube. Even being broadcast in... Budderton. Something like this happening in... such a tranquil place as the Border Mountains? I think this isn't natural."

"Major, I know this isn't natural."

"Notch couldn't have done it, though, and Notch is the only one to have this much, well, explosive force to dig a crater this deep."

"Of course Notch couldn't have done it. He has trouble making his mind up on when the next biome can be introduced. Or which countries go where."

"Special Agent, you're starting to push my buttons."

I opened my eyes, reeling at the sudden light. I was in a white room. White walls, white ceiling, with a floor that I assumed without looking would be white.

The two men in front of me seemed to be ordinary enough, although they both wore suits. The younger of the two wore a black business suit and had short, well-groomed blond hair. The elder was wearing an uptight, stiff brown suit and black dress pants. He looked pretty grumpy, although that might have just been because of the suit.

"He's awake, Major," the blond said in a businesslike tone. "I suggest telling him what happened."

"Yes, mmm, good idea, Special Agent." The old man shuffled forwards towards my bed, which I hadn't noticed before.

"I'm Major Whittington of the Minecraftian Bureau of Investigation," he proclaimed. "Of course you know why you're here... of course."

"Um, no," I replied, shaking my head.

"You passed out," interrupted the blond. Whittington sighed.

"Forgive me for his rudeness," he said apologetically. "This is-"

"Special Agent Cricket of the MBI," the blond interrupted, again. "You inhaled too much disrupted redstone gas and passed out. Took us ages to get it out of you. Well, how do you feel?"

"Terrible," I replied, touching my aching head with two fingers.

"Well, no matter how you feel, we need some information from you," Cricket snapped. "Get up!"

I straightened myself up from the bed and stood. His voice... it seemed like all the authority of Supervisor and the HPhos execs put together. Never in my life had I experienced that urge to obey. But, after all, this was the MBI that was involved here, not HPhos.

"Sit down in this chair, son," Whittington advised, placing a chair down in front of a table. It was a rather shabby chair compared to the shiny black affair opposite. I sat down, my bones screaming at me. Whittington took a long time to sit down in the black armchair, and when he did he looked me in the eye with a mixture of authority and kindness.

"Now," he began, "what's, mmm, your name, son?"

"Noobweiser3," I replied. "Er, why exactly do you need to know?"

"We have to, um, file a report to Notch's deputies after this interview," Whittington replied. He folded his hands into a triangle in front of him. "What were you doing prior to the, mmm, accident?"

"Mining," I replied cautiously.

"Specifics," barked Cricket.

"Mining... in a mineshaft," I continued. "Found a big room with lots of minerals, coal, stuff... then tunneled down until we reached a big gravel room... Then this wierd thing happened with the fire circle, and-"

"What fire circle?!," both the inquisitors said in unison.

"There was a fire circle in the ceiling," I babbled. "We were just trapped under gravel and that thing just lit up and... well, blew us out. Killed a few miners and our supervisor, then lifted out of the crater and went... into the sky."

"This sounds like a mechanical thing, this 'fire circle'," Whittington mused.

"Agreed," said Cricket. "Although it seems like too much of a coincidence that something like this happened in a mine where this individual happened to be. There are a lot of corridors and rooms down in the deep mine zone, and Noobweiser3 here happened to make it to the very room where this event occured."

"Oh, Cricket," sighed Whittington. "You make everything sound like the witness was responsible..."

"Sometimes they were," Cricket replied, folding his arms.

"Don't take it personally, Noobweiser3," soothed Whittington, leaning on the tabletop. "I can tell you didn't... perpetrate the crime."

"Good," I replied. "At least you aren't all suspecting me like this asshole." At this Cricket left the room. The click of the door opening and shutting was the only sound.

"Is he always this sensitive?" I asked. The old man gave a look of pity towards the wooden door.

"He's had a bit of a..." Whittington paused. "...Troubled relationship with witnesses of all sorts ever since that encounter with the PVPer. In that case... the witness did commit the crime... and nearly killed Cricket. Other than his hostile, er, disposition towards witnesses, he's been a steadfast agent. Never fails to impress."

There was a long moment of akward silence.

"What now?"

Whittington took a while to answer. When he did, it was slowly.

"We train you... of course," he said. "You're still valuable to the investi...gation. We can't just have you dying on the job."

"On the job?" I asked.

"You'll be with Agent Cricket for the duration of the investigation... of course."

ooo

The torchlight was dim and flickering, barely illuminating patches of the long stone-brick corridor ahead of me. I squinted, trying to see through the fog that clouded the floor and walls in white sheets of fluff and mystery. Then out of the shadows came a white shape, nearly invisible due to the fog, but still slightly visible. It held a bow and arrows in its hands.

Unsheathing my enchanted training bow from my back, I took aim at the skeleton jerking towards me. The string pulled tight. The arrow surged into the mist, disrupting it and making it swirl sickeningly. It failed to hit the skeleton, however, and struck the floor with a twang. The skeleton fired, hitting my leather training chestplate and sending me to the floor. I was dead, down for the count.

"Right, right, let's see how you did!," said Jayman, the master of modded weaponry and devices, from his window seat over the training corridor. He flicked a switch, and the skeleton caught on fire and died.

"You killed," he tallied, "zero skeletons, zero zombies, and zero spiders." He looked at me. "That's a new record, kid."

I ignored his sarcasm and walked to the back of the corridor again.

"Better work on your aim this time," Jayman grinned. "Ready? Okay, go." He pushed a button behind his glass screen. A dispenser made a FWIMPH sound somewhere far ahead. I cautiously snuck forward in the fog, bow held out in front of me. The skeleton popped up in front of me, making me jump and unleash an arrow in surprise, which struck the skeleton in the joint between one spinal disk and the other. This time, the skeleton was down for the count.

"You're not done yet," Jayman called as I attempted to sheathe my bow. "Keep going."

Ahead there suddenly came a zombie. Two, actually. They held their arms out in front of them and walked slowly and menacingly towards me.

Backing away slightly, I crouched down so as to get a better aim with the bow and shot one in the chest and another in the head. But the wounds were both non-fatal. _Oh wait_, it struck me, _they're dead already_. Pretty much a duh moment for me. So I ran forward and stabbed a zombie in the forehead with the end of my bow. That killed it. Then the other one pounced on me and started trying to claw my face off. I moved my head out of the way and shot an arrow through the zombie's throat. It head, now fully disconnected, made the derpiest death face ever contorted in the history of death faces and sagged to one side. Standing up shakily, I brushed myself off, finding to my slight disgust that a gangrenous fingertip was lodged in the fold between the chestplate and the shoulder pads.

"Good job, Noobweiser3," Jayman complimented. "Now onto the spiders."

A black, eight-legged shadow dropped from another wall dispenser and scuttled on the wall towards me. I aimed my bow and fired, but the spider sent thread out and swung away from the projectile. Now it was on the other wall and I was out of arrows.

"The bow doubles as a sword, you know," Jayman's voice sneered. I growled, sprung forwards. The spider was having none of that, however, and before I knew it I was on the floor with a large arachnid trying to slash at me with legs like bristled scythes.

In the corner of my eye I saw Cricket walk over to Jayman's side and watch my progress with mild boredom. "I finished it in thirty seconds my first try," I heard him tell Jayman. "You sure he's competent?"

"No," came the reply, "but Major Whittington says he ought to be trai-"

Broken off from my eavesdropping by the appearance of another crack in the floor just by my head, I lashed out and caught the spider completely by surprise. My fist ached after that, and because of this it was the bow that came down upon the spider's head, and not a chunk of rather fragile meat with little sausage-like things on it.

"You finished, Noobweiser3." Jayman sounded disappointed for some reason. "You've been approved for combat situations." He shook his head. "Oh, Notch help us all..." he murmured.

ooo

Cricket woke me up from where I was getting some rest after the training camp incident.

"Whittaker needs you," he informed me. "We have a lead on this investigation."

"Whittaker?" I asked. "Never heard of him."

"Sergeant Whittaker," Cricket answered. "I cannot believe you haven't heard of him. He's the governor of your home district."

"And he's based here?"

Cricket didn't reply.

"Oh," I said, embarrasedly. "He would be."

As we arrived at Whittaker's office, a lavish place with an ornate wood and gold desk at one end, we could tell that Whittaker was distressed. There was a dead body in the center of the room, a fire charge sticking from his side. Whittaker himself was shorter than I imagined, and he was also holding a small portable gun.

"Modded weapons?" Cricket said.

"Oh, it's you, Special Agent Cricket," Whittaker groaned. "Just when I'm already as stressed out as I'll be for the day, here you come makin' it worse..."

"What happened here?" Cricket snapped, patience evaporating faster than a skeleton in a desert.

Whittaker stroked his long, black beard that hung down to his midriff. "Someone tried to attack me," he answered solemnly. "I shot him because he couldn't be stopped with words. He was too fast to arrest or stun..." Whittaker shuffled over to Cricket and held out something small and made of redstone rock. "You should see this," he said.

"What is it?" I asked as Cricket studied the object.

He was quiet.

"It's a redstone ignition cell," he said after turning the object over in his fingers. "Tell me," he added, turning his head to Whittaker, "did the assailant have any TNT on him?"

"Yes, on his belt," Whittaker answered.

"This was an attempt to destroy the building," Cricket said purposefully.

"Why did you want me, in particular, sir?" I asked Whittaker.

"Whittington told me that you'd been down where there was a lot of redstone dust," Whittaker responded. "Do you know if you saw anything like this ignition cell down in the gravel room?"

"I didn't sir," I said. "Not a trace of anything like that. Just redstone ore in the walls, like normal."

"There's an insignia on this," Cricket said suddenly. "Says... 'sQID inc.'"

"Any chance you could find this sQID inc.?" asked Whittaker.

"We could try," Cricket responded. He tapped my shoulder. "Best be going," he advised in a whisper, and smiled in a flat and definitely emotionless way. I followed him down a white-walled corridor to a piston door. Cricket turned to a series of three switches on the wall.

"Do not attempt to use these switches without knowing the code," he said. "It's... let's see if I remember... yes... three, one, two." The piston doors groaned and opened slowly onto a large stone stable with a considerable amount of horses inside.

"This is my horse," Cricket said, patting a brown one on the muzzle. "His name's Bond." He gestured towards what looked like a donkey tethered next to Bond. "You take Derpcakes." Derpcakes looked at me with the most lazy and out of proportion eyes I'd ever seen on a land vertebrate.

"You sure Derpcakes is fast?" I queried.

"Fast enough," Cricket replied, hoisting himself onto the back of Bond. I tried to get onto Derpcakes, but the animal's head twisted up 180 degrees to look at me and I almost collapsed off the saddle.

"Ready," Cricket said, "and... we ride!"


End file.
